


But You're Crying Now

by inkslinger_outlaw



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Druge Abuse, Hurt No Comfort, Idk what i'm doing, Misgendering, Smoking, Trans Rick Sanchez, implied emotional abuse, manic depression, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkslinger_outlaw/pseuds/inkslinger_outlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light in your head and dead on your feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But You're Crying Now

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this out when I couldn't sleep. Dont expect a lot

The house is dark. And quiet. And seemingly devoid of life. I don't even know if anyone's here. Despite what I like to tell myself, I care about that. A lot.

My dominant hand stays plastered against the wall, guiding my way to my bedroom all the way from the basement. I can't hear movement of any kind. Though, that's probably the alcohol's doing. I'm not exactly home in a sense. Light's on with an empty bedroom, you know what I mean? I stumble once or twice, but no one comes to check the noise. Probably because no one's home. Probably because everyone's used to this and doesnt give a shit anymore. People stop caring pretty fast after they meet me. Then I leave. Or they leave. What's the difference anymore... The thought of my ex-wife and daughter back on Earth flashes before me, but I just clench my eyes and shut everything out until it disappears. _Pers and Squanchy are still around..._ And they'll be gone soon enough too. Why bother? All this is is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I let out a sigh when I finally make it to my bedroom. Tripping more than once as I maneuver through clothes and trash, I eventually make it to my mattress and fall onto it. I squeeze my eyes shut again as the void in my chest flairs open, bringing tears to my eyes. I inhale sharply, the scent of week old food and dirty clothes fills my nostrils. It smells disgusting. It smells like home. 

Turning over, I grab my crumpled blanket and wrap myself in it. It doesn't bring much comfort. I sniffle and bite my lip, trying to stay as silent as I can. This fuckin' sucks. I'm such a crybaby... my mother's right. I'm no man. I'm just a fuckin' girl playin' dress-up. I'm so stupid. I let out a whine as hot tears start falling down my face.

I glance up and stare at my wall. Purple daylight shines against it. I sigh and close my eyes again, choking back a guttural cry. Not sleepin' again then. When's the last time I slept? A few fuckin' days ago? My body buzzes with copious amounts of energy, but my mind is so tired. Grinding to halts every few minutes. I squirm uncomfortably, binder squeezing my torso painfully. Clenching my teeth, I sit up and groan as my muscles strain and bones rub painfully together. I take a deep breath and grimace. I should take it off... I haven't taken it off for as many days as I haven't slept, but... Tears spring back to my eyes. I feel fucking gross without it on. I bend forward and put my face in my hands. My body hurts. Everything hurts. I pull a hand away from my face and shakily grab a smoke from the pack on my pillow. I stare when I light my cigarette, burning a quarter of it as I watch the stick dissolve into blackened ash. I almost wanna smile as I take that deep first inhale. I sigh in contentment when I release the smoke through my nose, relishing in the smell of menthol and burnt paper. I stare out the window, hand tangles in my mess of hair as I smoke the cigarette down past the line to the filter. It tastes like shit and burns my lips. I fuckin' love it. I drop the butt onto my floor and just look at it for a minute. I can't stop spacing out... I hear a bang from downstairs. Somebody's either coming or going. Footsteps eventually find their way down the hallway. I catch Squancy walking past. He doesn't even stick his head in my door. He keeps walkin until I hear another door shut. He didnt say anything. Not that he's home. Nothin' to me... my eyes start stinging and I bury my face in my arms.

Shit... I release a sob and bite down on my hand as hard as I can stand. I don't want anyone to hear me. I dont want 'em knowing I'm fucked up right now. I don't want them to see me like this. Crying like a goddamn _girl_ for no damn reason. I shakily lean over my bed and rummage around till I find my bottle of hydrocodone. It ain't oxy, but it'll work. I knock six back with the days old glass of water on my nightstand. It's stale and tastes wrong, but it doesn't matter. What does?

Eventually I lay back down as my head starts to swim pleasantly. I breathe in and out gently, watching as my ceiling starts moving slowly. My stomach feels nauseous and my head feels like cotton and it's _good_. It's _nice_. It's easy and familiar and I don't have to **think**. I can just be... I can lay here, not doing anything. My mind doesn't race. Memories does break into the forefront of my mind.

I'm still crying. 

But it's ok. It's silent. It doesn't hurt. It just _is._.

And it's ok.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know if you want to read more of this one. I might just keep it a one shot


End file.
